Life through 100 lenses
by chibiness87
Summary: Bonesology hiatus microfiction challenge. Ratings will vary, see individual chapters. NOW RATED M!. Mostly B/B. WIP
1. Caught

A/N: So yeah. Been a while. Hello. I stumbled across this bonesology hiatus challenge, and it seemed to spark something within my muse. I figured I'd make a start while she was actually being active. Posting will be erratic, but I DO aim to finish this in the timescale. We'll see. These will be in a random order, and cross-posted at bonesology. Will mainly be B/B orientated. Timelines will be noted at the start of each prompt. Not beta'd.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

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021\. Caught - set quite some time in the future.

Rated K

"And just _what_ do you think you're doing?"

He turns, charm smile firmly in place, only to be met with her steely glare. "Nothing?"

"Don't you _nothing_ me, Booth! You know what the doctor told you. Your cholesterol is higher than average for a man of your age and weight, and you could be putting yourself more at risk of a heart attack. Is that what you want?"

"Well no, but come on, Bones…"

"No. I will not risk having you go to an early grave because you insist of constantly having midnight snacks. Now, put the cookie jar down!"

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tbc


	2. Guilt

096\. Writers choice - _Guilt – Rated K+. Set immediately after 10.19 – The murder in the middle east._

* * *

It is over an hour after she has thrown him out of the house before his mindless driving brings him back here. The irony of the bar's name is never lost on him, especially now. Jesus, how could he have been so stupid as to think he would get away with it? Sliding onto a stool, he catches the eye of the bartender and orders a scotch with a single nod of his head. Aldo pours him a single measure, sliding it across to his old army friend. Booth gives a small nod in thanks, before throwing the shot back. Letting out a hiss as the alcohol burns down his throat, he sighs, briefly meeting Aldo's eyes before seemingly studying the bottom of the shot glass.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

"Not a priest, Booth." Booth says nothing, just gives him a glare and motions to the bottle again. Aldo sighs as he pours him another. "What did you do this time?"

"I lied to the woman I love." Isn't it always that that brings him back to his would-be confessor? But this time it's more than that. More, and so much worse.

"Temperance? Did you break her heart again?" At the look on his face, Aldo wishes it were that simple. The man sitting before him is no longer the confident FBI agent he knows; instead it is a broken shell of a man, the guilt radiating off him in waves.

"No." his voice hitches, breaking over his confession, "I broke her trust."

* * *

tbc


	3. Black Out

067\. Black Out – set season 4, post Mayhem on the Cross, but pre Critic in the Cabernet

Rated T (for themes, mainly)

A/n: Gah! This is hard, people. I this all planned out and then my muse went wild, and then pouted when I pointed out the word limit. But, I made it!

* * *

They've been at Booth's, working on paperwork, for the past three hours. It used to feel strange, working together so much after hours. But then, they've never really adhered to normal working hours anyway. Brennan has come to feel more at home in Booth's (admittedly smaller) apartment than her own.

A storm has been approaching; the skies outside darkening. Suddenly, there is a flash of lightning and the lights flicker, once, twice, before the apartment is plunged in to darkness. And, although she knows she is safe, her brain takes her back to that trunk of that car, terrified out of her mind. She cannot help the flinch she gives when Booth reaches for her.

"Hey, easy Bones, it's just me."

"Right. Yes. Sorry." Is that really her voice, shaking and timid? Booth obviously hears it too, because the next thing she knows she is being pulled into the embrace of her partner.

"It's ok. The lights'll be back on in a minute."

"Uh-huh." She burrows closer to him, taking the willing comfort he is offering. It used to bother her that he saw her like this, but now she has come to accept it is another thing that they share. Although he has been more attentive to her during storms and dark hallways since her confession in Sweets' office.

When the lights finally come back on and she feels like she can breathe again, she pulls away. Giving him a shy smile, she offers a quiet, "Thanks, Booth."

His answering smile makes her heart flutter (Booth would call it her heart skipping a beat), and nudges her shoulder slightly. "Anytime, Bones."

(When she eventually turns back to the paperwork, she can't help but wish for the storm to return, if only to be held in his arms once more.)

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tbc


	4. Want

012\. Want.

RATED **M** PEOPLE!

Set immediately after 6.22, The hole in the heart.

* * *

They make it inside her apartment, just, before he actually starts disrobing her. Pushed up against the hastily closed door, all she can feel is him. Everywhere. Lips and tongue and teeth, while his hands fumble with her clothing. She tries to help, but then he has her breasts exposed for all of a second before his lips are there, sucking hard, and she ends up just clinging to him, pulling him closer to her. Honestly, it is all she can do to stay upright at this point.

She wonders if it is a betrayal, feeling this happy, when they have just had a send-off for her intern, but the arousal coursing through her veins at this moment soon puts a stop to that thought process. (Or that might be the way he has taken to grinding his very hard cock against her upper thigh. If he doesn't get inside her soon she might just have to take matters into her own hands.)

He is raining kisses over every part of her he can reach while plucking with the stubborn catch of her jeans now. She is not helping, clutching at his back and neck the way that she is. He breaks away for a moment to actually _see_ what it is he is trying to do, and she lets out a whimper.

"Oh, God, Booth, I want…"

"What, baby, what do you want?" His voice is nothing but a breathless rasp; she might not have heard anything as sexy in her whole life. It makes her core throb.

"You."

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tbc


	5. Stranded

A/N: To all those who review as guests, thanks for your kind words. I'm glad you're enjoying these little snap-shots.

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013\. Stranded – rated T.

Set in ep. 7.05 – The Twist in the Twister.

* * *

Booth gets that she's angry. Hell, he's angry. No, scrap that, he's pissed. Pissed at her, for coming out in tornado. Pissed that said tornado wrecked his car. But mostly, he's pissed that his pregnant girlfriend/partner/love of his life has just abandoned him with aforementioned wrecked car in the middle of goddamn nowhere, and now he is completely stranded. With Sweets.

He has his phone out, trying to get a signal to call for a tow, when a low whistle catches his attention.

"Wow, dude, what happened to your car?"

The only answer he gives to the nosey little shrink is a sharp glare. Sweets gulps, before realising they are now one member of the team down. "Hey, where's Dr. Brennan?"

"She left."

"What? And left us behind? Why? Didn't she see the state of your car?"

This time, the answer is a growl. (He knows it's not the kid's fault, but seriously? Now is not the time.) For once, Sweets seems to pick up on Booth's keep-asking-these-questions-and-you'll-be-walking-home mood, and points awkwardly behind him. "OK. I'm just gonna…"

"Yeah, Sweets, that's fine. Do whatever you want." Sweets gives him one of _those_ looks, which does not help his mood, but before he can take it out on his young friend, his cell gives a chirp. He has a signal now, and he'll be damned if he's going to miss the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge by arguing with Sweets.

He flicks his phone open, and dials for a tow.

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tbc


	6. Self-conscious

A/n: I'm finding some of these prompts to be quite hard. Some, like this one, seem to just write themselves.

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 **063\. Self-conscious** Rated K+. Set late season 10/early hiatus.

* * *

Booth comes home to find their bedroom in complete disarray. His concern for her well-being is immediately heightened; Bones is nothing but meticulously neat. His eyes take in the way the dresser drawers have been pulled open, random clothes pulled out and dumped on the floor. A glance to the wardrobe does nothing to calm him down; it is in much the same state.

It is only the lack of blood or broken furniture that has him from reaching for his gun, but only just.

"Does this outfit make me look fat?"

Her quiet voice startles him, and he jumps slightly as he turns to find her leaning against the en-suite doorway.

"What?"

"This." She motions to one of the few dresses she had allowed Angela to insist she buy. The way the material floats over her pregnant midsection is nothing but flattering; the blue trim bringing out the colour of her eyes. God, he loves her so damn much.

"You look beautiful." He doesn't know if that answers the question; truth be told he has forgotten there was even a question to begin with. It is a simple truth that must be aired.

Brennan glances down, her hair covering her face slightly. "It's Michael-Vincent's birthday party next weekend. I was going to wear that black dress I bought last week, but it doesn't even _fit_ anymore."

It is the helplessness in her voice that has him across the room and encased in his arms before she has even finished the sentence.

"Bones, sweetheart, you're pregnant."

She glares at him. "I'm aware, Booth."

"Yeah, I know, but that dress? That makes you look…" Booth trails off, his eyes misting over slightly as he takes her in. "You're just so damn beautiful."

This time, she answers him with a small smile.

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tbc


	7. Mistake

065\. Mistake – rated T.

Set post 6.22 Hole in the Heart, but pre 6.23 Change in the Game.

* * *

They manage to make it three whole days before their first argument (fight). Booth would call that some kind of record. They have been walking on eggshells around each other, scared to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing, meaning this wonderful whatever-it-is between them (the beginning of Forever) would be over.

So really, when the argument comes, they have both been expecting it.

They just hadn't been expecting it to be over milk. (At least, that's what he thinks it started out as… Since then it has escalated and morphed into something more. And now he doesn't quite know how to reel it back in.)

They have been at it for the past fifteen minutes, screaming and gesturing, and he has lost control. That is the only logical explanation (and doesn't _that_ just rub against him) for what comes out of his mouth next. "Goddammit, I knew this was going to be a mistake!"

The angry words are out before his brain can engage, and he can do nothing but stare at her in shock in the deafening silence that follows, and watch the same emotion appear on her face as the words register. (Can open; worms everywhere.)

He doesn't mean it. Of course he doesn't mean it. But the little bit of him that is too pissed at her to remember how much he fucking loves her won't let him take it back.

They stand there in silence for almost a minute before she moves. Backing away slowing, tears brimming in her eyes, before turning and walking out his front door.

It is only the quiet click of the latch slotting back into place (even now she doesn't slam the door) that breaks through his strong façade.

Jesus Christ, what the fuck has he just done?!

* * *

tbc.


	8. Name

A/n: Ok… This was not part of the plan. I have a draft of a follow-up to Mistake which was _supposed_ to be next in line, but then my muse _insisted_ on this. And, as every other writer here, I am nothing but a slave to my muse, so it's going next instead, and the Mistake follow-up will be posted tomorrow, once _major_ editing/re-writing has been done. (It's currently at 562 words. oops!)

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097\. _Name. – (Writer's choice.)_ Rated K+.

Set during _that_ scene in 1.22, The Woman in Limbo

* * *

She has gone by many names in her life. Temperance. Tempe. Brennan. Bren. They all mean something to her, and to the people who call her by each one. She has never had a nickname she liked (it started with Morticia, and went downhill from there), until Booth came into her life and annoyed the living daylights out of her by incessantly calling her _Bones_.

She eventually lets him get away with it (and it has nothing to do with a part of her _liking_ he has a name that no one else would even dare _think_ about calling her, honest), because she _knows_ who she is.

Or at least she _did_ , until this week.

Now, everything she knew about her life is a lie, and she is floundering in a storm of confusion and pain and hurt.

"My name is Brennan."

 _(NOT Keenan.)_

"I'm Dr… I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan."

 _(But who is she?)_

"I work at the Jeffersonian Institution. I'm a Forensic Anthropologist. I specialize in identif… in identifying… in identifying people when nobody knows who they are."

 _(Who is she, really? Does anyone know?)_

"My father was a science teacher."

 _(Wasn't he?_ )

"My mother was a bookkeeper."

 _(Not bank robbers. Her parents were Matthew and Christine Brennan, a science teacher and a bookkeeper, and they were good, honest people who did not get up in the middle of the night and rob banks.)_

"My brother… I have a brother."

 _("My name was Kyle; your name was Joy."  
"You are _not _my brother!")_

"I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan."

 _(But who is that?)_

"I know who you are. Hey. I know. It's okay. Shh. It's gonna be alright."

She falls into his embrace, clutching at the one constant in her life right now.

So maybe he does know her, after all.

* * *

tbc


	9. Grovel

**030\. Grovel** – Rated T.

A/N: As promised, the follow-up to Mistake. I used to think 300 words was loads - turns out, not so much! Apologies if this therefore comes across slightly disjointed, (and I'm still not sure I like the ending); you will not believe the amount of re-writing that went into it!

* * *

It takes him about five minutes to go after her.

Not because he has calmed down, but because they had started this argument as he was getting out the shower, and he at least needs to put on something more than a towel before running after her.

Rushing downstairs, he has his cell pressed to his ear, a mechanical voice informing him the number he has dialed is unavailable. He growls as he slams the connection closed, worry warring with fear.

It is one thing to ignore his calls; it is another to disable her voicemail. He violates a dozen traffic laws as he races to where he thinks (hopes, prays) she will go. He's right, and a small part of him cheers at her still being predictable enough to find. But this time, instead of her deep, melodic voice stating her findings in a Limbo case, all he can hear is sobbing.

Rounding the top of the table, he finds her; her tears and the anguish she is in radiating off her in waves.

"Bones." His voice is a whisper, but she hears it anyway, trying to duck her head further away from him. "Baby, please."

"Don't, Booth." She still won't look at him, her hand coming up as a barrier between them.

He can't help himself; he grabs it lightly, pulling her resisting body against his. Holding her tightly, it is all he can do to not cry himself. Giving up, she latches on to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I swear to you, Bones, I didn't mean it."

Grovelling is not his strong suit, but for her he will do anything.

She nods, and pulls him closer. He knows they are not OK right now, but maybe, just maybe, they will be.

* * *

tbc


	10. Sinful

**019\. Sinful**. Rated M – for Mmmmm, B/B nekkid times.

Set between Hole in the Heart and Change in the Game – my current Bones playground.

A/n: I haven't written anything like this in about, oh, at least 5 years (and even then it was for a completely different fandom), so apologies if I'm rusty.

* * *

She has him pressed up against the wall again, tongue down his throat, making his blood boil. They have been doing this for the past two weeks, getting back to one of their apartments and going wild against the nearest flat surface – horizontal or otherwise. This time, though, he wants her in his bed, making love to her slowly.

To that end, he picks her up (despite her startled, "Booth!"), and carries her (total Alpha-male style) to his room. Dropping her on the bed, he has her blouse off in moments (there may be some button collateral damage, but he is too far gone to care).

The lace bra that is revealed is something out of his fantasies. Sinfully black with a blue trim, it makes her eyes look both light and dark at the same time. Sucking her nipple through the lace, he quickly pushing her pants down to her ankles, pausing his ministrations at the sight of the matching panties, before they too are pushed away.

She has not been idle, and he finds his own pants and boxers are now tangled around his knees.

It is enough, and after a quick swipe through her wetness to test her readiness, he tilts her hips and thrusts himself home.

There is nothing but sharp thrusts and deep grunts and the sting of her nails leaving scratches down his back after that. He loves it, can't get enough, until a particular deep thrust, timed with a swipe across her clit and a harsh suck on her neck has her coming around him in waves. He is helpless to do anything but follow.

It is only minutes later, lying next to her while gasping for breath, he realises she is still wearing her bra.

So much for slow.

Maybe next time.

* * *

tbc


	11. Burn

A/N 1: To all those who review as guests, thank you so much for all the kind words of support you have given me. And to those of you who prefer to just read fics, thanks for spending the time reading mine.

 **039\. Burn** – Rated, um, T? Possibly just K+, but I like to err on the side of caution.

Set in mid S.7, pre 7.07 The Prisoner in the Pipe.

* * *

"I know everyone says childbirth is a very painful occurrence, but I'm here to assure you all it is not as bad as the movies make out. At most, it will feel like a Chinese burn."

Brennan highly doubts that that is what trying to force the crown of a new-born through an opening usually the size of a nickel feels like, but Booth has been on at her to at least _try_ to get through these classes without offending anyone. To that end, she stays quiet, and even participates in the stupid group action of actually giving each other a Chinese burn.

Fifteen minutes later, they are in the truck, Booth giving her a disapproving glare over the top of his sunglasses.

"Stop looking at me like that, Booth. It's not my fault we were asked to leave."

Booth gives her a snort in response. "Bones, you gave that poor woman such a bad Chinese burn she started to cry!"

"Well at least she might have a more realistic view of the pain shell be experiencing in childbirth. Unless she's planning to have an epidural, but even then…"

"Not the point, Bones. You mad her cry from a Chinese burn, and now we're not allowed back."

"I _told_ you the woman running this class was stupid, Booth. We don't need to go back. I'm aware what needs to be done and the likely pain that will be involved, and it will be substantially more than a Chinese burn!"

The glare she sends him dares him to disagree with her. Booth, wisely, says nothing, but continues to drive them home.

* * *

tbc

* * *

A/N 2: So this was inspired by a conversation I had with my mum the other day about what she was once told in a Lamaze class. She is an amazing woman, who sometimes come out with absolute gems. (Also, a dentist – her grip is frigging strong.) So, thanks mum, even though I know you will never read this.


	12. Marriage

**015\. Marriage -** Rated K.

Set between 9.04 The Sense in the Sacrifice and 9.06 The Woman in White

A/N: I feel this challenge is taking over my life… I'm OK with that. Lol.

* * *

"What do you think of this one?" She holds up the information of a local florist for his perusal.

He briefly glances up before turning his attention back to the file in his hand. "Yeah, it's OK, I guess."

Exasperated, she throws the information back onto her desk. "Booth, this is our wedding; it would be helpful if you could at least pretend to be interested in what flowers we have."

"I don't want a wedding, Bones."

Her heart freezes at the words; surely he cannot be taking it back again?

Sensing her tension, he drops his file and moves across to kneel in front of her. "You don't understand… I don't want to _just_ have a wedding. I don't need the church or the flowers or the huge reception. I don't need any of that. All I need is you and me, a priest and the rest of our lives." He takes her hand in his, meeting her eyes earnestly. "I love you. I want 30 or 40 or 50 years. I want a marriage, Bones, not a wedding."

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tbc


	13. Punch

**043\. Punch** – Rated T.

Set beginning of 3.15 – Pain in the Heart.

* * *

There has been nothing but white noise in her head for two weeks. She is aware of others around her, trying to get her to talk. Sweets especially. But she knows better, knows that talking will do nothing; Booth will still be dead.

And that's the kicker. Booth is dead.

Shot. Because of her.

(Because he was too stupid to not jump in front of bullets not meant for him.)

She does not want to go to his funeral. It will change nothing. Booth will still be dead.

But she hadn't counted on Angela. (She should have. Booth would have known what to expect… But Booth is dead.)

She goes to the funeral. (Booth's funeral; because Booth is dead.)

(Maybe if she says it enough times it will actually sink in, mean something.)

(She doubts it.)

The funeral is interrupted by Booth (what?) fighting with some guy (how?) before she knocks him out with the arm of a dummy to save him. (But that is of course completely ridiculous. Because Booth is dead… Right?).

Nothing is making any sense. The white noise is now a buzzing roar. (Is this what losing your mind feels like?)

Booth is there.

Booth is right there. Talking. (Not dead?)

Arms open, expecting a hug, while her mind is in complete meltdown. (Because Booth died. He stood up in front of a bullet not meant for him and he _died._ )

She does the only thing she can do; she punches him.

Because Booth is right there. (Not dead.)

Which means he lied to her. (Because he is not dead.)

With a look of disgust, she storms away.

(She has no idea how to deal with a Booth that is not dead.)

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tbc


	14. Finger

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who is reading these little snippets.

Finger - Rated T.

Set in 6.22 The Pain in the Heart.

* * *

He wakes to the feeling of her finger trailing across his broad chest.

"What are you thinking?"

Her finger stops its rhythmic movement, and she ducks her head into her chest instead. The words, when she says them, are muffled. "Vincent died."

He gives a sigh, tightening his arm around her, holding her in place. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head he whispers, "I know, Bones."

"It could have been you." There are tears in her voice again. "I keep thinking that…"

This time, he pushes her up a little so he can meet her eyes. "Don't. Don't go there, don't dwell on the what-ifs. Trust me, it doesn't work."

"I can't lose you."

"You won't."

"You can't know that. _I_ can't know…"

This time, he silences her with a kiss.

It is nothing like the desperate kiss on the steps or the Hoover, or the hungry kiss outside a dingy pool hall. It is a kiss of two kindred souls finally finding each other. They both feel it.

Eventually, she ends it. (She has to; her lungs are screaming for oxygen.) Timidly meeting his eye, she asks, "So what happens now?"

"Now? Now, we get up, and go catch a bad guy. After that, we'll say goodbye to Vincent. After that," his eyes turn a shade of dark she remembers from times long since past. She suddenly hates Broadsky more than ever for making them have to leave this room. "After that, we'll come back here, and it'll be you and me and this bed for a long time."

* * *

tbc


	15. Graveyard

**058\. Graveyard** – Rated T

Set at the end of 1.21 The Soldier on the Grave.

A/N: Inspired by a comment from Covalent Bond on chapter 8: Name. So thanks for that spark.

* * *

As graveyards go, the sprawling expanse of Arlington is more of a monument in its own right.

Cases involving the army always hit him more than others. He tries his best not to let the others see just how rattled this whole sorry affair has made him. A soldier dying for daring to do the right thing; it is almost too sickening to think of.

But it is not the first time mistakes like that have happened on the job, and he's sure it won't be the last. Adrenaline flowing, vision narrowed, every person a potential target; be them man, woman or child. He knows mistakes can be made, and has lived with the consequences, even when others have not.

Now, standing at the graveside of Devon Marshall, the sense of anger that has been plaguing him since finding out it was all a cover-up of an op gone wrong is replaced by overwhelming sadness and loss. Three men are dead because an op involving too-green kids went FUBAR.

What a fucking mess.

Accepting the thanks of the Kent and Marshall families, he finds the weight of the errors, of the lives he has taken, are pressing on him more than he has ever felt them before. Hank's words from a few days ago spring back into his mind.

Maybe it's time he told someone (her) about his past; Hank might be right, it might help.

Left alone with Bones once the proceeding have finished, he takes a breath; takes a chance.

"I've done some things."

(Turns out the old dog may have been right after all.)

* * *

tbc


	16. Grin

**037\. Grin** – Rated K.

Set pretty much anytime post Hole in the Heart.

* * *

"You owe me," she glances at the card before her, "$1500."

A quick glance at the collection of $20s and $50s before him show him what he already knows; there is no way he can afford anywhere close to that. He tries a new tactic (it's always worked for him in the past). Giving her the most pitiful look he can muster, he wheedles, "What? Come on, Bones, that's not fair."

"It's in the rules. It clearly states that, when a hotel is placed on…"

"It's Monopoly, Bones."

"So?"

"So, normally there are house rules."

"What? No, there's not."

"There are. Look, how about I pay you," he does a quick calculation, "$450, and then I do all the food shopping for the next two weeks. I'll even buy you all that veggie crap you like without saying a word."

She gives him a dubious look. While she wants to (and eventually _will_ ) win (it's only a matter of time), she hates food shopping. "And you're sure these house rules exist?"

Sensing her beginning to fold, he nods. "Yeah. 'Course they do."

She pauses. Thinks. Eventually, with a firm nod, states, "Three."

"What?"

"I'll agree to your terms if you do all the food shopping for three weeks."

He sighs. "Ok, fine. Three weeks. Deal?"

"I guess."

"OK. Alright. Here." He hands over the few remaining bills in front of him. "And hey, that was a double, so it's my go again." All he needs is at least a 4 and he can pass Go and get some much needed funds. He picks up the dice, rolls, and moves his little car on two stops.

Brennan shoots him a grin. "Booth? You owe me $2000."

* * *

tbc


	17. Motivated

**029\. Motivated** – Um, Rated K+?

Set in The Parts in the Sum of the Whole.

* * *

It is when they are standing out in the rain outside a dingy pool hall, tequila giving him a nice warmth in his belly and her eyes sending fire through his veins, that he realises, if he's got any sort of chance at being the man he wants to be (for her), he has to start coming clean. "I have a gambling problem. But, I'm dealing with it."

"Why did you feel you had to tell me that?"

Why? Because for once he is actually motivated to do something other than blow the remaining of his pay check on a game of football/hockey/pool. "I don't know. I just feel like, um, this is going somewhere."

He has never had a reason to stop gambling before. Truth be told, he has never _wanted_ to stop gambling before. Not even for Rebecca and Parker. As long as he made his support contributions she couldn't say anything about what he did with the rest of the money he earnt (she gave that right up when she said no).

But her? Dr Temperance Brennan, forensic anthropologist extraordinaire, with those eyes and that voice and her ferocity?

Yeah.

He could definitely stop gambling for her.

(It is only many years later, stood on the steps of the Hoover, the words of their therapist-come-friend echoing in his head that he'll come to realise he never did stop gambling. He just changed the stakes.)

* * *

tbc


	18. Possessed

057\. Possessed – rated K+

Set after Hole in the Heart.

A/N: Sometimes, my muse gets moody, making me write angst. Sometimes, she gets flirty, and fun times occur. Sometimes, I have no idea what she has been drinking and things like _this_ happen. *sigh*

* * *

"She's possessed."

"Huh?"

"Don't you think? I mean, it's the only rational explanation."

"I'm sorry, what? Who's possessed?" Honestly, sometimes he feels he walks into conversations halfway through.

Hodgins shoot him a look that clearly implies he's an idiot. "Dr. B."

Sweets can do nothing more than stare. Eventually, he manages, "You think Dr. Brennan is…"

"Possessed." Hodgins nods emphatically.

With a raised eyebrow, Sweets asks, "Um… Why?"

"Dude, have you see her lately? When Booth died it was all any of us could do to get her to eat. Or shower, even. Now, Vincent's been dead for less than a week, and she looks like she's about to skip down the road singing Z _ippity Doo Dah_!" All this with arms waving, and a mad gleam in his eyes.

Ok. Time to try to bring this back into the realms he's more comfortable with. "You are aware that you're a scientist, right, Dr Hodgins?"

Hodgins scoffs. "Oh please. Possession happens. You can't tell me that…"

Before he can go off on a rant, Sweets intervenes. (Anything to try to keep _his_ sanity at this rate.) "Dr Hodgins. Control yourself. Please. There must be a better explanation that a ridiculous phenomenon. Maybe she's just happy."

Hodgins raises _his_ eyebrow now. "Happy? After Vincent? No, man, I'm telling you. There is definitely something weird going on. I swear…"

He trails off as the object of his musing walks into the room. Giving both men a smile, she picks up a folder before leaving once more.

Sweets turns back to him, mouth gaping. "Dude."

Hodgins' grin can only be described as smug. "I know."

"But she…"

He nods. "I know!"

Sweets looks at him, looks at where Brennan had been, before turning his head back. They nod, and in unison agree, "She's possessed."

* * *

A/N 2: I warned you…

tbc


	19. Suspicious

**064\. Suspicious** – rated K.

Set during Murder in the Middle East (kind of).

* * *

A/N: Because it's been bugging me, that's why.

* * *

The necklace is beautiful.

Simple yet elegant, and while it is unlike her other jewellery it is more precious than almost any other that she owns, because Booth bought it for her.

And it sort of looks like a curved humerus.

Really, there is no reason for her not to love it.

Except.

Except, that night when she asked him how much it was, he had skirted the subject. He never gave her an answer, and she never pushed it. But looking over their joint bank statements now, she wonders how she missed it.

There is no purchase on their back statement for any jewellery shop.

In fact, there is no purchase on their bank statements for a large deposit, period.

Nor is there a large cash withdrawal where he could use the funds to pay for such an extravagant gift.

He had been happy when he gave her it; this much she knows.

But now she wonders.

Questions.

Did he buy it because he was happy she was his wife?

Or did he buy it because he had he gambled and won big?

* * *

Tbc

* * *

(I know I didn't actually use the word… So sue me.)

(Please DON'T sue me!)


	20. Flight

**023\. Flight** \- rated K.

Set pre-pilot, but only just.

* * *

He has been trying to get her to work with him for the past five months. (He has been trying to get her to _talk_ to him for the past eight.)

Neither of which have been met with the greatest success.

(Read, complete failure.)

After a few (eleven) attempts at getting further than her voicemail (informing him that the person he is trying to contact is unavailable) he eventually decides (man's up enough) to grace the halls of squintopia again.

And is met by her assistant-cum- _whatever-the-hell-he-is_.

Again.

Giving the young kid a friendly smile, he tries the direct approach. "Hi. I'm looking for Bones."

"She doesn't like to be called that. You should call her Dr Brennan."

This. Right here, _this_ is why he hates this place. Smile more forced now he relents. "Ok. I'm looking for _Dr. Brennan_."

Her assistant (Zane? Z-something) doesn't even look up. "She's not here."

 _No shit, Sherlock._ "She take the day off?" Unheard of, but maybe it will get him somewhere.

"She's in Guatemala." There is an instant look of dread on his face. Obviously, this is information that was not meant to be passed on. Though, at least it explained the voicemail…

Not wanting to seem like he's trying to pry (or is completely desperate – he has some standards), he lets the comment pass, instead simply asking "When she back?"

"I don't…" Off Booth's look, he relents. Shoulders slumped, he mumbles, "Her flight gets in next week."

Booth smiles. With a tap of his fingers to the bench, he offers a light, "Great. Thanks for your help," before turning and strolling out the door, a merry tune on his lips.

There can't be that many flights she can be on. And he knows a guy in Homeland Security who owes him a favour.

* * *

tbc


	21. Complicated

**066\. Complicated** – rated K

Set between season 6 and 7. My take on a scene we were robbed of.

A/N: this one seems to have turned into a sickening ball of fluffiness…

* * *

They are sat in Angela's office, Brennan sipping at a mug of warm herbal tea. Her stomach has been playing up again; she's not sure if it's the pregnancy or the topic of discussion.

"I think I should tell him. I should tell him, right?"

The slight teasing note in Angela's tone is not helping her situation. "Oh, most definitely."

"Yeah." Brennan takes another sip. Barely meeting her eye, she mutters, "Um, how?"

"How?"

"Yeah. You know. How should I say it?"

This time, Angela's tone has softened. "It's really not that complicated Sweetie. You just tell him."

"I _just tell him_? Just like that?" There must be more to it than that. Something this big cannot be preceded by the word _just_.

Angela is not so easily swayed. "Yeah. You know, you go up to him, look him in the eye and say, 'Booth, I love you.'"

Unnoticed by the two of them, Booth takes that moment to announce his presence. "That's really nice and all, Ange, but I'm in love with Bones."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to her. It really shouldn't. But it does. All she can manage is a soft, "Oh."

Booth hears it and gives her a little wave and a grin. "Hey Bones."

"You love me?"

"Well, yeah." His voice has taken on that _aww, shucks_ quality only she normally gets to hear. It brings confidence to her own once more.

"You love me."

Booth sighs. Striding over to her, he kneels so he is at the same eye level. "Of course I love you, Bones."

Brennan smiles. "Hey Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you too."

Angela was right; it really wasn't all that complicated after all.

* * *

tbc


	22. Sad

**007\. Sad** – rated K+

Set at the end of 3.14- Pain in the Heart.

* * *

Booth follows her to the stairway. Of course, he does; this is not something to be left to face alone. Taking a seat next to her, trying to comfort her with his presence (trying to remind her that _he's still here_ ), he pulls the letter from its envelope. Opening it, he reads her words from so many years ago back to her.

"Dear Mr. Addy. It is my pleasure to offer you the post of my intern in Forensic Anthropology. I chose you from hundreds of applicants because of your knowledge, your desire to learn, and because I feel you will find a home here." Placing the letter back in its envelope, he continues, "I think you gave him something great, Bones."

Still, she says nothing. Eventually, her head comes to rest on his shoulder, and he is helpless not to rest his own on hers. It is many minutes (possibly hours) later that she breaks the silence.

"It hurts, Booth."

His voice cracks slightly as he replies, "God, Bones, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

To this, he says nothing.

"It wasn't, Booth." Turning to look at him, really look at him for the first time since he showed up at his own funeral, she is struck by just how gaunt, how _old_ he looks. "Should you even be out of bed yet?"

"I'm fine."

She looks down again. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry about that too."

Brennan sighs. "I know you are." A beat. "I forgive you. But Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"If you ever come back from the dead again, I'll kill you myself."

Her eyes are defiant now, daring him to argue. It eases the tension in his frame; she's letting him in. Together, they will get through this.

* * *

tbc


	23. Hug

**038\. Hug** – rated K+

Set during 1.19 – Man in the morgue.

* * *

He takes the call on speaker phone. This almost instantly becomes a mistake, because surely everyone else can hear the strain it is taking her to keep her voice even the way that he can.

"I'm just letting you know that I won't be returning today as planned. I received a slight knock to my temple two days ago, and am undergoing medical treatment."

"What?!"

"I lost a day. I'm undergoing some tests. I'll let you know my return schedule once I've finalised my ticket."

"I'm coming down there."

There is a shocked tone to her voice that slightly surprises him. "What? No, Booth, there's no need. I should be back in a few days. Oh. The doctor's calling me."

And she had hung up. (An action that does not settle his blood pressure in any way shape or form.)

"Where are you going?" The question makes him pause in the doorway. He can do nothing but stare at Angela in shock. Because, really? Was she even in the same room as him when he took that call?

"New Orleans."

His response seems to calm her slightly. Her words, however, do not calm him.

"Good. I'm coming too." There is a determined look in her eye that lesser men have quailed under.

But Booth is not a lesser man.

Giving a sigh, he shakes his head. "No, Ange. I need you here."

"Why?"

"Why? Because something tells me there is more going on than a slight knock to the head."

"Ok. But Booth?"

"Yeah?"

There tears forming in her eyes, the worry he is feeling beginning to take hold of her too. "When you see Brennan, give her a hug from me?"

He gives her as much of a reassuring smile that he can muster. "Count on it."

* * *

tbc


	24. Shoot

**032\. Shoot** – rated T

Set beginning of 2.13 – Girl in the Gator

* * *

He has had a low level of anger brewing for the past few days, ever since Epps ended up dead.

He has spent more time at the gun range in the past week than he has since he left the army. Paper targets do not shoot back when he shoots at them. Somehow, that doesn't make him feel any better.

And while, for the most part, he has managed to fool everyone into thinking he is fine, he's not. It's only the thought of losing her that has stopped him for finding the nearest pool hall and blowing all his savings.

Taking a phone call about a case down in Florida becomes much harder when a fucking eejit with a loud clown (of all things) starts stalking them down the street.

It is telling just how bad the whole situation is by what follows. Normally, he would be able to deal with the annoyance. Duck back inside the diner, or wait until the truck had passed. Normal, logical things.

But today has not been a good day and this week has not been a good week, and he's still filled with anger that needs to go somewhere.

Now.

He would never even think about striking out at Brennan (he's not his father), but thankfully there is another outlet available to him.

He turns and shoots the damned clown head off.

Silence.

At last.

It is only when he ends his phone call and looks to Brennan that the actions register. She is just standing there with a look of shock (and a tiny bit of fear neither of them will ever admit to) on her face. With the smallest shake of her head, her tone lets him now just how far up shit creek he is.

"That was not good."

* * *

tbc


	25. Behind

011\. Behind – rated M

Set post 6.22 Hole in the heart. Early relationship.

* * *

There are many aspects of Seeley Booth that she now has the pleasure (right?) to enjoy. And, while his acromion are very well proportioned, right now, lounging in his bed, all she can focus on is his ass.

"What are you doing?"

She has been so intensely focused on the way his muscles move as he walks, she has not realised he has been sneaking his own glances at her through the mirror mounted on the wardrobe door. Glancing up guilty, she meets his teasing smile with a sultry one of her own.

Their relationship is both old and new, and while she has been feeling unsure of where certain barriers now lie, this one she knows.

Laying back, letting her eyes track slowly from his head to his feet and back up again, taking in the full visage of him turning hard under her lustful gaze once more, she gives the only honest answer she can. "Me? I'm simply lying here." She licks her top lip wantonly. "Enjoying the view."

He growls.

And pounces.

* * *

tbc


	26. Bad

**002\. Bad** – rated K+

Set anytime post 9.04 The Woman in White.

* * *

"How bad is it?" The worry in his tone was evident for all to hear.

"Well…" Hodgins paused, peering down the hallway, calculating.

"I mean, do you think Bones'll notice?"

"Oh. Um…"

"Well?"

"Yeah," he sighed in resignation. "Yeah man, she's gonna notice."

"Oh crap. What should we do?"

"We? Oh no, don't drag me into this. This was all you, baby." Off his glare, Hodgins winced. "Sorry. Reflex." After a beat, he ventured, "Have you tried using water, you know, wash them away?"

"Well, gee, that had never crossed my mind."

"Don't yell at me. This wouldn't have happened if you had just…"

"Oh. So it's my fault now?"

"…It was always your fault!"

"What was always your fault?"

The two men turned to see their wives standing in the doorway. "Oh! Hey. We weren't expecting you back until…"

Interrupting them, Angela demanded, "What happened?"

"Nothing." Booth tried to charm both women with a smile, surreptitiously glancing down the hallway.

Seeing where his attention was, Brennan followed suit. "Noth… Booth! There are bubbles coming out of the laundry room!" Turning to glare at her husband, she demanded, "What did you do?"

"Me? No, no, this was Hodgins."

"Wha… How?!"

"You distracted me. Ergo, your fault."

"That's enough!" Glaring at them both, Brennan pointed to the front door. "Just… just go. Get out of here."

Feeling very much like a scolded child, Hodgins couldn't help but point out, "I told you she was gonna notice."

Booth gave him a little shove as they headed outside. The echoes of their argument lingering on.

"It's your fault."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

Looking over to Angela, Brennan sighed. "That's the last time I let Booth try to fix anything."

* * *

tbc


	27. Plan

**A/N:** I know, 5 fics in 24 hours... what can I say? I'm behind where I wanted to be at this point, so I've gone on a posting spree to try to catch up a little. So. Next one.

* * *

 **008\. Plan** – rated T

Set somewhere around season 2ish.

* * *

They had been on stakeout for the past three hours, but finally the suspect in their homicide/explosion case had returned home. "What do we do now?"

Booth gave her a grin. "Well, I'll go in, arrest this sonofabitch, and we'll be home by dinner time."

Brennan's look was nothing short of indignant. "What about me?"

Remembering past cases, Booth's playing grin turned patronising. "You can stay here, _out of the way_."

"That's the plan? You go in and flush the subject out while I just, what, _sit_ here?"

"Yeah." He paused, pretending to think if there was anything else he was missing. "Pretty much."

Brennan scoffed. "That… is a terrible plan."

"Oh. You have a better plan?"

Without answering, she left the car, pulling her canon of a gun from her purse as she went. With a stifled curse, Booth chased after her. Overtaking her on the doorstep, he growled, "How many times do I have to tell you?! Gun goes first, Bones. Gun goes first!"

She waved her own in his face. "It was, Booth."

Pushing it aside with his own, Booth glared at her. "Not that one."

A crash from the other side of the door had them coming to a silent truce. Kicking the door open, they went in search of the suspect. It was only the smallest click, but it made the hairs rise on the back of Booth's neck. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her back outside the front door and to the side, just as the rigged explosives went off.

The force of the blast had them falling to the ground. As they lay there, catching their breath, Booth turned his head to glare at her.

"Next time, Bones, just stick to the plan."

* * *

tbc


	28. Intelligence

**A/n:** Thanks to all those still following along. And to those who review as guests, thanks. It's always nice to hear what you have to say :)

* * *

 **003\. Intelligence** – rated T

Set early season 1, but post 1.05 The Boy in the Bush

* * *

Their argument had been vicious. Fiery barbs yelled at each other, neither caring who overheard. Reaching her door, Booth pulled it open, intending to walk away. "Goddammit, Bones. You must be the stupidest smart person I know!"

Her voice did not quieten any, despite the lack of privacy. "I don't believe that. My IQ score is…"

"Intelligence is more than an IQ score!"

"But, statistically…"

"That's not the point, Bones."

"Then what is the point?" Exasperated, she threw up her arms.

"There is more than one type of smart."

"I don't know what that means."

His tone turned mocking. "It means there's Brain Smart," he paused and pointed at her, " _you_ , and then there's Street Smart." Again, he paused, this time pointing to himself. "Me. And sometimes, Bones, Street Smart beats Brain Smart." Not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned and stormed from her office.

"You know, she'll hate me for telling you this. But she's got more street smarts than you'll ever have." The normal soft tones of Angela's voice have been replaced by a harder one.

Walking over to her, his own harsh tone softened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"She aged out, Booth."

It took him a second to work out exactly what she meant. And then it clicked. Instantly, he denied it. "No, no she told me…"

"About a grandfather? Yeah. A mysterious grandfather who she only mentions when she's talking about getting out of foster care. Now, why would she do that?"

It hit him like a fist to the gut. "I…"

"Yeah." Angela nodded. Giving him a patronising pat on his shoulder, she levelled one more parting shot before she turned and shut her office door in his face. "Maybe _you're_ not as smart as you think _you_ are."

* * *

tbc


	29. Announce

chapter 1/5 today)

004. **Announce** – rated K

Tag to 9.04 – The Sense in the Sacrifice

* * *

They come back from the abandoned factory, all smiles and a togetherness that they have all felt the absence of. Hand in hand, her head leaning against his shoulder subtly (Angela sees it. Of course she does,) they step back into her domain.

With the smallest of head tilts, she prompts him into speaking. "Hey, guys, I, _we_ , have something to announce."

Giving her friends, her _family_ , a small smile, Brennan continues. "We're getting married." Off everyone's look, she adds, "No, really, we are this time."

Booth winces slightly. (Angela sees it. Of course she does.) "It was Pelant."

The various onlookers glance at each other, some with a more smug look of _I told you so_ than others. Then there's just a rush of noise as everyone starts speaking at once.

"I knew there was more to it than what they thought!"  
"Why didn't you _say_ anything?!"  
"When's the wedding?"  
"But you _are_ getting married now, right?!"

Interrupting them all as they all vie to be the dominant voice, Booth points to each of them in turn. "Whoa whoa whoa. Ok. Yes, there was. He was going to kill people if I said a word to anyone. We haven't decided yet. Of course we are."

Listening to all the mayhem happening around her, Brennan smiles. It was finally over.

They could move on now.

Together.

* * *

tbc


	30. Die

(chapter 2/5 today)

052. **Die –** rated T

Set between 4.24 The Critic in the Cabernet, and 4.25 The End in the Beginning

* * *

She was mad.

No. she was beyond mad.

Beyond angry, and pissed, and fuming, and irate. She doubted there was a word that described how she felt.

(Hurt. It was hurt. But a hurt so deep she couldn't process it.)

It wasn't that he had lied to her. (Well, maybe it was. A little.)

Her mind, usually so clinical in matters like this, as just in a loop of constant panic.

Seeley has a brain tumour.

Seeley was in the middle of an operation to try to remove said brain tumour.

Brain surgery was dangerous.

Seeley might die. (For real, this time.)

Cam wasn't sure how she would be able to deal with that. Losing him once for two weeks had been bad enough. (Booth and Brennan may have forgiven Sweets for that little stunt he had pulled, but she hadn't. Not even close.)

And what if he didn't die, but didn't recover either?

Would he want to go on, living a life that was less than it was before?

Would he want to live on as a vegetable in a hospital bed?

And who would make that awful decision, should the time come? Dr Brennan?

Could she?

Would she?

Maybe, years ago she might have. But now?

Cam wasn't so sure she would be able to.

Sitting in the hospital chapel, she gave in and did one thing she hadn't done in years. Bowing her head, she did what Booth would do in situations like this.

She prayed.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven…"

* * *

tbc


	31. Rescue

(chapter 3/5 today)

055. **Rescue –** rated, erm, K+?

A/N: I feel this went a little out of character, but it's where my muse went. And where my muse goes, I follow.

Set at least post 9.01 The Secret in the Proposal, but no real time line after that.

* * *

"We're going to get out if this." Her voice was sure, defiant.

His, less so. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Right. It's just, y'know, normally when one of us gets into these… _situations_ , it's the other that performs the actual rescue. It's not often we get caught up in something like this together."

She paused. "While that is true, I still believe that we will get out of this. I'm not sure we will even need someone to mount a rescue."

"Why do you think that, Bones?"

"Because, like you said, we don't often get caught up in things like this together. And we're a very good team."

"The best, Bones. We're the best team."

She smiled. "Exactly. The best team. Who tries to take the best team hostage?"

"You know, you're a lot calmer than I thought you would be, given the situation."

Her answer made his heart skip. "I'm with you. Besides, this isn't the first time I've been kidnapped."

"Well, it's the first time someone got the drop on me for a long time."

She glanced down. "I'm sorry."

"Huh? Why are _you_ sorry?"

"It's my fault you were distracted."

He chuckled. "Bones, I've been _distracted_ by you since the day we met."

"But I…"

"But nothing." He gave her a small smile. "When we get out of here, I'm…"

He was interrupted by the door of their 'cell' being opened. "Danny?"

"Hey guys."

"What are you doing here?!"

The CIA agent looked around. "Rescuing you?"

"How did you…"

Danny sighed. "You guys want to sit around and chat? Or shall we go?"

Brennan shot Booth a look. Together, the three of them left.

"We would have gotten out," Booth grumbled. Off his friend's look, he grinned. "But, thanks."

* * *

tbc


	32. Dirt

(chapter 4/5 today)

098\. **Dirt – writer's choice –** rated K

A/N: I wrote this when I didn't have access to my computer and was trying to remember words I hadn't written anything for. And then when I came to write it up I realised this word wasn't one of the ones on my list. But I liked it too much to change it to fit a different prompt, so it's going here.

Also, this was going to be a little funny ditty one… it is not.

* * *

Set post 5.16 The Parts in the Sum of the Whole

"What's the lasts dirt you've got for me?"

Angela said nothing, just shot him a look.

"Oh come on, you must know something!"

Still, she remained silent.

He sighed. "That's all I'm getting? Stoney silence?"

"What were you expecting?"

The frostiness in her tone gave him pause. "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, did you ever stop to think… well," she gave him a humourless laugh. "No, of course you didn't."

"Angela, I'm not sure I follow."

"No, of course you don't. You're twelve."

Sweets blanched. "I…"

But Angela had had enough. "No. _No!_ You… you messed around in something you shouldn't have. And now…"

"Now?"

"You… You _broke them_ , Sweets!"

"I… What are you talking about?"

"You just couldn't do what we have _all_ been doing for years. _Years!_ Left them to get where they're meant to get to on their own. No. No. You had to go and _push_ your shrinky nose in where it wasn't needed. And now…"

"Now?"

"You pushed them for more. Before either of them were ready."

"I…"

"You want to know what a _partnership_ between Bren and Booth is, Sweets? Congratulations. You got your wish."

She stormed away, angry tears brimming in her eyes.

Sweets stayed where he was. Flummoxed, unsure what she meant.

It was only a few days later he understood.

He wished he could say it wasn't his fault.

But he knows, this time, it definitely was.

* * *

tbc


	33. Murder

(chapter 5/5 today)

006. **Murder** – rated T

Set in 1.08 The Girl in the Fridge (mostly)

* * *

He hates Michael Stires.

He comes to this conclusion about, oh, twenty seconds after meeting him. (He's good at judging characters, something she hasn't come to trust him on, yet.)

The way he smirks, the way he leers, the way he invades _his_ partner's personal space just a little too much. (He can see it in her eyes, even if no one else can.)

Just because he is a smug professor, ( _her_ smug professor,) he thinks he can just waltz in and take over the teaching, like she is still some little schoolgirl. (Bones doesn't need teaching. Something this asshat of a prick doesn't seem to understand either. And he's supposed to be the stupid one in this partnership. Yeah, right.)

But, he is Seeley Booth, partner extraordinaire. So he says nothing. (Until he has to say something.)

The look of hurt, of betrayal, in her face when he tells her _why_ Stires is really there hurts him. He never wants to see that look on her face again.

So, dammit if doesn't hurt, no, murder him when, not days later, it's _him_ putting that look on her face, but this time in public. For all the world to see.

He's doing it for the right reasons, he _knows_ this. But still. The look stays with him.

Haunts him.

So much so that he makes himself a promise. (Makes _her_ a promise.)

He'll never be the cause of that look again.

(He's lost count of the number of times he has had to break that promise.)

(He hasn't. each time still hurts as much as the first.)

(Is this what love feels like?)

* * *

tbc


End file.
